


kiss the skin that crawls from you

by theglitterati



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Horror, Unhealthy Relationships, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:49:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27182695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglitterati/pseuds/theglitterati
Summary: Six months after zombies destroy Japan during training camp, there are few survivors. Those who remain alive need to work together, but Akaashi thinks Kuroo is hiding something.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma & Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24
Collections: Haikyuu Horror Week





	kiss the skin that crawls from you

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! If you missed the tag, this is a horror fic, so expect all the nastiness that comes with the genre. Also, I stole the zombie physiology in this from Train To Busan.
> 
> Title is from Hozier's "To Be Alone."

Kuroo’s house, the one he was currently squatting in, stood at the end of a long road that bordered the forest. Akaashi kept to the treeline as he walked up the street. It was dangerous to be out in daylight; staying in the shadows was the best way to avoid being spotted.

The only sounds were the wind in the trees and a single bird, chirping on a streetlight. The quiet was new to Akaashi. In Tokyo, before, noise had been a constant backdrop. Now, it meant danger, no matter if it came from you or something else.

He nearly cried out when he tripped on something hard and metal, falling to his knees. After checking that the coast was clear, he looked back. An animal trap lay near his foot; thankfully, it hadn’t triggered when he fell. The trap was steel, and new, no dirt or wear on the blades.

They’d seen wild boar in town lately, taking back their natural habitat since humanity had abandoned it. Was Kuroo trapping them? He was the only one living out here, but they had plenty of food at HQ, and hunting didn’t seem like his style. He and Kenma had been tacticians, not soldiers, Yaku’s right-hand men until Kenma died.

Kuroo was different after that. He moved away from the group, physically and mentally. Akaashi understood; death changed people. He wouldn’t begrudge Kuroo his boar.

He reached the house and knocked softly on the door, drawing his knife as he did so. You could never be too careful, with the dead or the living.

The door opened a crack, then further when Kuroo saw who it was. “Akaashi.”

“Hey. Can I come in?”

Kuroo shrugged and left the door open, which Akaashi assumed meant yes. He didn’t retreat far into the house, just leaned against the wall in the genkan. Akaashi guessed he wouldn’t be invited in for tea.

Kuroo was a mess. He hadn’t cut his hair since the invasion. It fell in his face more than usual, casting a shadow over his eyes. He still wore his filthy Nekoma jacket, and there was a fresh scratch across his cheek. “Why are you here?” he asked flatly.

“Goura’s dead,” Akaashi said. “He took a team out yesterday for supplies and a few stragglers found them.”

“Shit.” Kuroo ran a hand through his hair, his fingers getting stuck in the tangles. “Just him?”

“Sugawara and Yamamoto made it back okay. They said Goura threw himself at the horde and told them to run.”

“A captain until the end.” Karasuno’s Sawamura had died similarly, taking on four zombies at once so his underclassmen could escape. Kuroo was now the only captain left. 

Akaashi supposed, being vice-captain, he was in charge of Fukurodani. Not that there was anyone left but himself to be in charge of.

“How many are we down to?” Kuroo asked. “Thirteen?”

“Twelve,” Akaashi corrected. “We lost Ennoshita last month, remember?”

“Right.” Kuroo glanced around, his eyes unfocused. He seemed to be having trouble keeping up with the conversation. “Is that all you came for?”

“No.” It was just his excuse for checking up on him. “Yaku-san said we might need to move soon. I want to know that you’re with us.”

“Move? Move where?”

“I don’t know, but this area’s getting overrun. We’ve used up a lot of supplies, and the hordes are moving closer.”

“I’m not moving,” Kuroo snapped. “You can tell Yaku that.”

“You can’t stay here alone,” Akaashi said. “I know what it’s like, after…”

“You don’t know anything. I’m not leaving.”

Akaashi twisted his fingers together. “Think about it? Please?” He couldn’t lose Kuroo, too.

Kuroo appeared not to hear him. “You should go. I’ve got things to do.”

“Like what?”

He smiled, a feral grin that made Akaashi shudder. “I have to make lunch.” He opened the door, gesturing for Akaashi to go.

“I’ll… I’ll come back soon and visit, okay?” Kuroo slammed the door in his face.

As he walked away, Akaashi noticed another trap, below Kuroo’s window.

There were many skills needed to survive an apocalypse; those who were still with them were there because they had something others didn’t. Yaku, their de facto leader, was level-headed, able to keep calm when people were dropping like flies. Tsukishima was strategic, good at seeing the long game. Tanaka and Yamamoto had strength and instinct, Sugawara a surprising ruthlessness. Ennoshita probably made it as long as he did because he’d seen more zombie movies than anyone else.

Akaashi was alive because he was cautious. He wasn’t a fighter or a planner; he survived because he rarely made mistakes. Heading back to Kuroo’s house after nightfall, moonlight guiding his way, he felt he was making a big one.

Something about his earlier visit didn’t sit right with him. He knew Kuroo was grieving Kenma’s death. It had only been two months since Kenma had been a hair too slow as they ran from a horde, getting bitten before Kuroo could shove his gun down the zombie’s throat. But Akaashi knew grief, and this wasn’t just that. The traps were strange, but there was also the fresh cut on Kuroo’s face, the way he’d ushered Akaashi out of the house so quickly. He needed to find out what was going on.

There were no lights on in the house when Akaashi arrived, but that was normal. The particular brand of undead that had taken over the country — and probably the world — couldn’t see in the dark. Unless you got very close to one, you were usually safe. Their group had a rule that lights could only be turned on in rooms without windows.

Akaashi was about to knock again when he heard a noise from the backyard. He raised his knife as he edged along the side of the house. He was relieved when he heard it again and realized it was Kuroo’s voice, though he couldn’t hear what he was saying, or who he was talking to.

“Kuroo-san?” He pushed through the gate into the yard. “It’s Akaashi.” 

He didn’t see Kuroo, but there was a shed behind the house. He stepped forward for a better look.

The shed was run-down, but the window in the door was clean. Maybe Kuroo was working on something back here? Though why he would do so in the dark, Akaashi didn’t know.

It was hard to see inside. Akaashi leaned closer, and the moonlight glinted off something. A familiar pair of eyes. Not dark, like Kuroo’s, but big, amber, catlike—

The thing that used to be Kenma launched itself at the door, nails like claws scratching at the window. Akaashi jumped back and fell to the ground. Over the scrabbling at the door, he heard the click of a gun being cocked.

“Don’t move.” Kuroo stood over him, gun at the ready, wild hair backlit by the moon.

“Kuroo, what’s— what’s going on? I don’t—”

“Oh, shut up, Keiji,” Kuroo spat. “Blubbering doesn’t suit you. You know very well what you saw.”

The thing — _Kenma_ — had moved away from the door, back into blind darkness.

“You lied.” Akaashi couldn’t believe this was happening. “You— you said he was dead, that you took care of him—” 

Whatever caused the outbreak, it didn’t only affect those who were bitten: anyone who died turned. They found that out when Konoha, one of their most effective fighters, was killed by a hunter’s stray bullet. He turned an hour later, killing two Fukurodani first years before they took him down.

There was only one way to ensure someone stayed dead: decapitation. Disconnecting the body from the brain.

“I _did_ take care of him,” Kuroo said. “That’s what I’ve been doing this whole time.”

“This isn’t— Kuroo, you’re the one who said I had to do it, when Bokuto died. You’re the one who made me—”

“That was different. Bokuto was hurting people, running wild. He needed to be put down.” Kuroo glanced at the shed. “Kenma’s safe in there. He hasn’t hurt anyone.”

“He hurt you.” Akaashi pointed at Kuroo’s face. _It,_ he reminded himself. Not _him._

“It’s a scratch. He was hungry.”

“Hungry,” Akaashi repeated. “You’ve been feeding him the animals you’ve been trapping.”

Kuroo smiled, that same sinister grin. “He likes boar well enough, but sometimes we get a deer. That’s when he’s happiest.”

“That thing,” Akaashi said carefully, “is not Kenma.” He had to make Kuroo understand. “He’s not going to change back.”

“You think I don’t know that? I know what he is! Just because he’s changed doesn’t mean he’s not my best friend.” He said it like Kenma had gotten a new haircut. “I love him. I won’t hurt him.”

“This isn’t what he would have wanted. Not just for him, but for you. Living alone, keeping him like a pet. Kenma would have wanted you to be happy.”

“Nobody’s happy anymore,” Kuroo said firmly. “At least we’re together.”

There was a faraway look in his eyes. The gun hadn’t wavered once from Akaashi’s chest.

“You always were too smart for your own good,” Kuroo told him. “I knew it’d be you that figured me out.”

Akaashi felt desperation setting in. “We can talk about this,” he pleaded. “Maybe if we tell the others, they’ll understand—”

“You know that’s not going to happen. No one understands.”

“I understand,” Akaashi said. It wasn’t even completely a lie. “Really, I do. Please, Kuroo-san, you don’t have to do—”

Kuroo pulled the trigger.

His aim was true. Akaashi had just enough time to regret his curiosity before the world went dark.

Kuroo had to move. People turned more slowly when they died uninfected, but it still happened fast. He hefted Akaashi’s body off the ground, holding it over his shoulder while he unlocked the shed. Inside, Kenma went wild, scratching at the door and growling.

“I know, I know. I haven’t fed you yet tonight,” Kuroo cooed. “But this isn’t food, okay?”

Quickly, he opened the door. Before Kenma would escape, he heaved Akaashi inside, knocking Kenma to the ground. It gave him enough time to lock the door behind him.

Kuroo waited. Fifteen minutes later, Akaashi stood up, joints popping as he adjusted to his new form. He and Kenma drifted together, arms brushing as they circled the tiny space. 

“Look, Kenma,” he whispered through the door. “I brought you a friend.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know in the comments who you think would survive/perish in the zombie apocalypse! I spent a ton of time thinking about it for this, but tried to keep it somewhat ambiguous in the fic. Lev was definitely the first to go.
> 
> As always, you can find me at kyrstin.tumblr.com!


End file.
